Blazed
by thegirlinchargeofthewords
Summary: John returns home to his beautiful fiance to find she's made brownies. Then they travel down memory lane in good company. One-Shot. Rated M for drugs and well, life.


She looked at her eyes in the mirror. Tiny black circles rested in a sea of blue and green. She looked insanely high.

"Shit!"

"What's wrong, dude?"

"John's gonna be home any minute and he's gonna know I'm blazin', Alec."

"I thought . . . you two were, like, over . . ." He took pauses, in his sentence because the weed had him thinking deeper and deeper.

"Why would you think that?"

Alec shook his head, unable to risk his feelings anymore. "Until next time, girl."

Cara watched her best friend leave the apartment. Quickly she scooped up the three bags of chips on the coffee table and put them in the cabinets. Attempting to cover the smell, she began baking brownies and sprayed just a bit of her perfume in the apartment.

Still reeling from her blaze, she sat on the couch watching TV with a bowl of popcorn. Forgetting that John was going to be pissed at her, she zoned out until she heard the door slam shut. He inhaled deeply as he peeled off his coat.

"Mhmm. You made brownies." He plopped onto the couch. "Hi, baby."

"Hey, babe."

He pulled her over to his lips. He tasted the familiar taste, smelt the familiar smell. He ended the kiss quickly and grasped her jaw. He looked into her eyes and frowned. Highly upset he pushed himself away from her.

"John, don't be mad."

"Caraline, you promised."

Those simple words struck her. She had promised. She had promised that she would stop smoking. She promised him. And she never broke a promise. But she'd had an excuse for smoking. Calling Alec hadn't been the best idea but she hadn't seen John in days and she needed him. He wasn't there when she needed him. She reacted in a way she knew well. It was a fault.

"You weren't here . . ."

"What do you mean?"

"I needed you, but you were busy and I didn't know what to do . . . I'm so sorry, I'm sorry."

Calming down, John grabbed her hands, deeply concerned. Care had been doing so well; she had stopped talking to her best friend because of it. She hadn't been able to be around him without wanting to smoke. "Are you okay, baby? What happened? What didn't I help you with?"

"I . . ." A tear cascaded down her face and she looked down at their entwined hands. "John, I . . ."

"C'mon, baby, I wanna be here. I don't have any excuse for not being here for you. Work takes second place to you."

"I . . . miscarried."

"Care, no, baby, no . . . You didn't even tell me you were . . ."

"I swear I tried to take care of her. I took the prenatal vitamins and I only ate healthy and—"

John tried to swipe his despair away. How could he not have been here for her? "Care, baby, I know you did. I noticed you changing, but I never . . . Oh my god, baby, I'm so sorry. I should have come home when you told me you didn't feel well. If I'd known . . ."

"John, you can't blame yourself."

"That's exactly what you're doing! You wouldn't have smoked again, if you weren't blaming yourself. Please, just tell me you didn't call Alec."

"All I do is disappoint you," she whispered, looking at him through her tear soaked lashes. "John, I know how much you want kids and I can't even do that for you."

"Oh, honey, no. It's not just me hurting. You want kids too . . ." John pulled his trembling fiancé into his arms. After many moments of her salty tears soaking into his shirt, he spoke, "We're moving."

"Wh-what?"

"We'll move out of Gotham, far away. The pollution can't be good for us and—"

"John."

"—we can buy a house with a white picket fence and we can try again. We can try again and I can help you. You won't have—"

"JOHN."

His mouth snapped shut and he watched her, deeply concerned with her opinion.

"We can't move."

"What? Why?"

"You're so close to getting that promotion . . ."

"Fuck the promotion. All I care about is you and my future children with you." His eyes turned hard, telling her that her argument was invalid. In her exhausted manner, she let it go.

Snuggling deep into his chest, she sighed.

"Do you remember when Father Riley caught us blazing when we were sixteen?"

"Yes. And when he caught us blazing and making out in the confession booth."

"And when he walked in your room to find us having sex."

"While blazing." He laughed. "And when we made hash brownies—while blazing—and Sister Mary caught us."

"Or when we were blazed and Bruce Wayne came up to us on the street and you told him I called his name one during sex."

"Holy shit. We smoked a lot."


End file.
